She laughed a little scornful laugh, which yet was sweet and clear as the sound of silver bells.
"I had almost forgotten," said Sir Oswald. "I came to speak to you about something, Pauline; will you come into the house with me?"
They walked on together in silence for some minutes, and then Sir Oswald began:
"I went to London, as you know, last week, Pauline, and my errand was on your behalf."
She raised her eyebrows, but did not deign to ask any questions.
"I have engaged a lady to live with us here at Darrell Court, whose duties will be to finish your education, or, rather, I may truthfully say, to begin it, to train you in the habits of refined society, to—to—make you presentable, in fact, Pauline, which I am sorry, really sorry to say, you are not at present."
She made him a low bow—a bow full of defiance and rebellion.
"I am indeed indebted to you, Sir Oswald."
"No trifling," said the stately baronet, "no sarcasm, Pauline, but listen to me! You are not without sense or reason—pray attend. Look around you," he continued; "remember that the broad fair lands of Darrell Court form one of the grandest domains in England. It is an inheritance almost royal in its extent and magnificence. Whoso reigns here is king or queen of half a county, is looked up to, respected, honored, admired, and imitated. The owner of Darrell Court is a power even in this powerful land of ours; men and women look up to such a one for guidance and example. Judge then what the owner of the inheritance should be."
The baronet's grand old face was flushed with emotion.